


Ariel, Or the Cauldron of Morning

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: #666foryou [323]
Category: Damien (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Missing Scene, Post-Series, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: "Adsum domine," she whispers brokenly, overwhelmed by the enormity of what her life has become in the last forty-eight hours.





	Ariel, Or the Cauldron of Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 13 September 2016  
> Word Count: 639  
> Prompt: "Ariel" by Sylvia Plath  
> Summary: " _Adsum domine_ ," she whispers brokenly, overwhelmed by the enormity of what her life has become in the last forty-eight hours.  
> Spoilers: Missing scene, taking place during and immediately after the events of episode 01x10 "Ave Satani." Beyond that, everything we learned in these 10 episodes is up for grabs.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Series: #666foryou  
> Series: Ariel  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Damien," "The Omen," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Glen Mazzara, David Seltzer, 20th Century Fox Television, Fox 21, and A&E Television Networks. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Damien," "The Omen," A&E, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: I struggled with this one for a bit, and then that image of the hand breaking through the dirt of the grave hit me and I went with this idea. My secondary inspiration for this one was In This Moment's "The Dream," which was playing on repeat as I wrote this particular piece. It just seemed apropos somehow, despite the fact that I never expected Sylvia Plath and In This Moment to be concurrent and interdependent inspiration for, well, _anything_. But it worked, and I _never_ question inspiration.
> 
> Dedication: This is part of a series of stories to thank the phenomenal creative team of _Damien_ , both in front of and behind the camera.
> 
> Beta: theonlyspl

"And I  
Am the arrow,

The dew that flies,  
Suicidal, at one with the drive  
Into the red

Eye, the cauldron of morning."  
\-- Sylvia Plath, "Ariel"

 

Later, when all is said and done, she will have difficulty explaining how it is even possible. Given the circumstances, it should be improbable _and_ impossible. But she knows that God works in mysterious ways and no one can truly know what His intentions are. That surety of purpose is enough to keep her going through any adversity, or so she tells herself eventually.

She remembers the pain; though by the time she was lowered into the grave, it was alternating between overwhelming her senses and fading into nothingness. The sensation of the lifeless bodies of her fellow nuns beneath her body is one she is likely never to forget. Amani's stockier body landing half on top of her is another such memory, having caused a flare of pain that nearly made her black out.

The need to comfort the young man outweighs her own sense of self-preservation for a time. He, just like the four young nuns, is a true martyr and will have a place in Heaven with Holy Father and His Son. She is unsure how she lasts longer than he did, but assumes the immediacies of shock and pain overtook his senses, allowing him to aspirate on the dirt weighing them down from above and around. It doesn't take long for him to grow as silent and still as the other four at that point. But she continues to fight, praying to God in some odd blend of all the languages she knows.

A sudden surge of adrenalin gives her the strength to move, to fight for freedom. If she should die in the struggle, then so be it as God's will. But shouldn't she have the chance to fight for her life if He has given it to her? She begins to claw at the dirt around her, fingers digging until nails are torn and bleeding, adding to the blood still slowly oozing from her wound. Lyons' goons didn't pack the dirt into the grave, no doubt expecting both living victims to succumb to their wounds quickly.

When she shifts from under Amani's dead weight, she feels the first sense of triumph. After that, the painstaking work of digging herself out, inch by bloody inch, becomes her only goal. She is moving blindly, but hasn't yet encountered the firmer ground marking the edges of the pit. When her hand breaks free, and she feels the breeze on her skin again, she wants to cry out. But she resists the urge, not wanting to get so close, only to choke on the dirt and die before she is truly resurrected from her entombment.

By the time her face is clear , she can smell the scent of newly fallen rain. Her eyes remain closed until she completely hauls herself up and onto the nearby grass. The gathered rain soaks into her clothes, making her shiver, but she doesn't care. She lies there, taking in great lungfuls of air, relishing in the twinges of pain in her side with each deep breath. She will take the pain if it means she is still alive.

And then she opens her eyes, blinking repeatedly until she can focus again. She can tell by the sky that the sun is rising; it's the dawning of a new day. And then she sees the rainbow, and tearful sobs wrack her body at the redemptive message that could only come from God.

She is saved and, with this new day, she is reborn into something more, something better. God's work for her is not yet done.

" _Adsum domine_ ," she whispers brokenly, overwhelmed by the enormity of what her life has become in the last forty-eight hours.


End file.
